


intoxication

by spilled_notes



Series: Utterances [2]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: For the prompt 'things you said when you were drunk'.*Please note the rating change for chapter 2*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deviltakehimback](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviltakehimback/gifts).



It’s late when Bernie finally gets out of theatre. AAU is, thankfully, quiet now. No emergencies, nothing else to deal with. Hardly any staff.

On any other night all she would want to do is leave, pick up a takeaway and curl up in front of the TV, then crawl into bed and sleep.

But not tonight.

She showers quickly, washing the day from her skin.

While she’s been repairing Mr. Kelly’s spleen, everyone else has been at Holby’s annual fundraiser. The tedium of talking to politicians and board members seems a reasonable price to pay for free food and wine – and a night with Serena who is, no doubt, in a stunning evening gown.

She groans at the thought, pulls on her suit but doesn’t bother with the bow tie, instead just draping it around her neck. Her fingers are tired and stiff, and right now she just wants to get out of here as soon as she can.

*

Serena is bored. She was looking forward to an evening with Bernie, instead has had to be polite to the bigwigs and watch her colleagues having fun. As a result she’s had rather too much wine and is, she admits to herself, very definitely the wrong side of tipsy.

She glances at her phone yet again, sighs at the lack of any message from Bernie. Drains her glass and empties the last of another bottle into it. Feels herself becoming decidedly maudlin.

_Perhaps it’s time to go home._

‘What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing sitting here all alone?’

Serena spins around at the familiar voice, wishes she’d had less to drink so her eyes would focus instantly. She isn’t sure what she was expecting Bernie to be wearing but it wasn’t this. Her jaw drops, her eyes widen, and her alcohol-muddled brain short circuits.

‘Fuck me,’ is all she can manage, the breathed expletive sending a bolt of lust through Bernie’s veins.

‘I’d be delighted to,’ Bernie smirks, stepping closer. ‘But can I at least have a dance first? I did come all this way _and_ get dressed up for the occasion. As did you,’ she adds, gaze openly – shamelessly – raking over Serena’s figure, delighting in the way her eyes darken. ‘It would be a pity to let all this effort go to waste, don’t you think?’

‘One dance,’ Serena grins, giddy with alcohol and desire, taking Bernie’s outstretched hand and rising a little unsteadily. ‘And then I’m taking you home,’ she murmurs against Bernie’s ear, feeling her shiver with anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several lovely people requested a continuation of this - so here you go!

Serena keeps her promise. One dance, closer than is perhaps appropriate considering where they are, and then she drags Bernie from the room, weaving through colleagues and board members, her farewells bordering on impolite in her haste to leave, to be alone together.

Outside, in the darkness, she pulls Bernie to her and kisses her, until Bernie feels almost drunk with the taste of wine and their mingled desire. Serena’s hands slip inside her jacket, splay around her waist and across her back. She’s so close, _oh_ so close, body heat almost burning through the fabric between them.

‘Your place or mine?’ Bernie asks unsteadily when Serena moves to kiss along her jaw, down her neck.

‘Yours,’ Serena murmurs against her skin. ‘Then we can be as loud as we like.’

‘Taxi,’ she says, slipping from Serena’s grasp, grabbing her hand and pulling her out to the front of the hotel. ‘Now.’

They sit with plenty of space between them, hands clasped on the seat, neither trusting themselves to be any closer. Somehow make it inside without incident.

But as soon as the door is closed Serena surges forwards again, hands tangling in Bernie’s hair, lips crashing together inelegantly until they can barely breathe.

‘Fuck me,’ Serena says, her earlier expression of wonder now a command.

‘With pleasure,’ Bernie growls.

She steps back, holds Serena at arm’s length and gazes at her: floor length dress in a rich, deep blue, eyes dark and glittering, cheeks flushed.

‘God, you’re gorgeous,’ she breathes.

Slowly she slips Serena’s wrap from her shoulders, turns her around, drops kisses across her back, nuzzles into the curve where neck meets shoulder. Unzips her dress, fingers pressing just hard enough along her spine to make Serena arch against her, drops the fabric to the floor with a rustle.

One hand slides across the bare skin of Serena’s waist, hips, stomach, holds her close. The other trails up the centre of her ribcage, her sternum, her throat. Delicately traces her clavicles. She feels every shudder, every hitch of breath. Tries to steady her own racing heart and trembling hands.

Bernie’s lips find a particularly sensitive spot behind Serena’s ear, and she reaches back to tangle her fingers in Bernie’s hair, holding her there. Her other hand blindly reaches for the door to brace herself when Bernie cups her breast, fingers smoothing over the satin and lace of her bra.

‘Bernie,’ she warns breathlessly, feeling fingers dancing across her stomach, down her hipbone, tracing the edge of her knickers. ‘Not sure my legs are going to hold out.’

She feels Bernie smile against her skin before she’s slowly turned around again. Bernie looks at her from under her fringe, pupils blown, lips swollen.

‘And you’re wearing altogether too much,’ Serena adds.

She pushes off the jacket, tries to control her shaking fingers enough to undo buttons that suddenly seem ridiculously tiny and fiddly. Between them they manage, and Serena is rewarded with the chance to slip her hands around Bernie’s waist again, this time fingers splaying across bare skin, feeling every quiver of muscles.

‘Bed?’ Bernie suggests, and Serena nods, taking her hand, the slip-slide of their fingers delicious.

The rest of their clothes are shed in a heap beside the bed, between increasingly frantic kisses. Bernie pushes them the last step, catching Serena and lowering her down, giving her chance to settle while she stares through half-lidded eyes.

And then Serena reaches for her, and Bernie allows herself to be pulled down until their bodies are flush and their lips find each other again.

*          *          *

Bernie kisses her way down Serena’s body. Not feather light kisses but hot, deliberate, open-mouthed ones. Her teeth tug at each nipple in turn, drawing Serena’s body up off the bed, sensitive flesh pebbling in response. She kisses across her stomach, the curve of her hipbone, muscles quivering beneath her lips. Down the soft skin of one thigh and back up the other. She catalogues every shudder, moan, sigh, stores them away for future reference, adding them to everything she already knows about this glorious woman. Tries to ignore the effect it has on her own body, pushes her own arousal away, not wanting to get distracted. She settles herself between Serena’s legs and then pauses, gazing at her.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Serena protests, raising her head and catching Bernie’s eye.

Bernie smiles lopsidedly. ‘Wanted to see your expression,’ she explains.

Eyes never leaving Serena’s face she gently parts her.

‘Bernie,’ Serena breathes, chest heaving and flushed with want.

‘You smell delicious,’ Bernie murmurs, breath ghosting over sensitive, swollen flesh.

‘Please, darling.’

Slowly Bernie lowers her head the last inch and, eyes still fixed on Serena’s, presses a tender kiss to her. She hums with pleasure, the vibrations drawing a soft moan from Serena whose eyes flutter shut, head falling back onto the pillow.

Bernie closes her eyes too, focuses on the feel of Serena, the smell of her, the taste, more intoxicating than any alcohol. The sounds she makes as Bernie laps at her then gently, firmly, tongues her clit.

‘More,’ Serena pleads, one hand gripping the sheets, the other winding in Bernie’s hair, fingers flexing as her body trembles and jerks with waves of pleasure.

Bernie complies. Of course she does – how could she deny this woman anything? She keeps her lips and tongue on Serena’s clit, flicks and sucks and swirls and sweeps.

‘More,’ Serena repeats. ‘Inside, please, oh Bernie, please, oh I need you.’

Bernie smiles against her as she starts to babble incoherently. She shifts a little so she can slowly slip a finger inside her, draws it out just as slowly and adds another. Her breath catches in her throat at the sound Serena makes, somewhere between a groan and a mewl and a whine. It sends hot sparks through her veins, a bolt of desire right down to her toes. She shudders along with Serena as she curls her fingers deep inside, hits just the right spot, the right pressure, the right rhythm.

It’s like she’s been doing this her whole life, like this is what she was made for. To be buried deep inside Serena, to have her clit between her lips. To move her fingers and tongue in tandem, edging her closer and closer, ears filled with pants and moans, soft whimpers and guttural groans, and ‘oh Bernie, oh yes there, oh don’t stop, please don’t stop, Bernie please.’

Until with a shudder and an arch and a ragged sob she falls apart around Bernie, against her, and Bernie can feel the fluttering of her, can taste the rush of her orgasm. A final, feather light kiss to her clit provokes another tremor, a soft cry, a flex of the fingers still wound in her hair. She rests her cheek against Serena’s thigh, her own heart thundering as aftershocks shudder through Serena’s body. Doesn’t withdraw her fingers until she feels Serena go limp, muscles lax, hand in her hair loosening its grip and falling to the sheets. She slides up Serena’s body and settles half on top of her, holding her firmly.

‘I think you might have broken me,’ Serena murmurs, voice muffled in Bernie’s hair. ‘But just you wait until I can move.’

‘No rush,’ Bernie soothes, even though she can feel the want throbbing between her legs. For now she is content to be draped over Serena, to feel their sweat-slicked skin pressed together. To feel the gradually slowing rise and fall of her chest, the whisper of each breath across her shoulder.

Eventually Serena stirs beneath her, sighs contentedly, and Bernie raises her head.

‘That what you wanted?’ she asks.

‘Oh yes,’ Serena smiles, kissing her languidly. Her smile widens as Bernie moans against her lips, as her hips press down, canting in search of more. ‘But now the question is what do you want, hm?’ she asks, shifting so they’re facing each other, reaching to gently sweep her thumb along Bernie’s cheekbone. ‘Fingers or tongue?’

‘Fingers,’ Bernie breathes. ‘Want to be able to kiss you.’

Serena smiles, ghosts her lips over Bernie’s.

‘Not that it’s going to take much,’ she confesses.

‘Whyever not, Ms. Wolfe?’ Serena teases, hand slowly slipping down Bernie’s body.

‘Well I, uh, I did just fuck the most gorgeous woman in Holby,’ she says unsteadily.

‘Enjoy it, did you?’ Serena smirks, hand resting on Bernie’s hip for a moment.

‘Oh yes,’ Bernie smiles against Serena’s lips. ‘Very much.’

‘You’re wrong, though.’

Bernie frowns, opens her mouth but Serena silences her with a kiss, tongue all too briefly slipping inside. She moans as she tastes herself, and Bernie thinks it might just be the sexiest sound she’s ever heard.

‘Because I think you’ll find _I’m_ about to fuck the most gorgeous woman in Holby.’

Bernie is about to argue when Serena’s finger slides against her.

‘Oh my,’ she breathes. ‘You did enjoy it.’ Her finger grazes Bernie’s clit, and she groans. ‘Like that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not inside?’

Bernie shakes her head, tries to kiss Serena but falters as sure, steady fingers slick themselves and then set up an excruciatingly perfect pace.

Serena watches her changing expression closely in the dim light seeping through the half-open curtains from the streetlights outside. She shifts her fingers, searching for – ah, there.

Bernie smiles blissfully, hums, kisses Serena tenderly. She never knew sex could be like this until Serena. Good, yes. Pleasurable and satisfying, without a doubt. Mind blowing, even. But joyful? Enough to draw laughter from her? Certainly not with Marcus, not even with Alex.

‘Mm, Serena.’

Serena grins too, peppering kisses along her jaw, down her neck, across her clavicles.

And then the smile vanishes and Bernie’s body tenses with a gasp, eyes screwing shut.

‘It’s alright, darling,’ Serena soothes, fingers slowing but never stilling. ‘Let go, Bernie,’ she coaxes. ‘I’ve got you.’

Bernie opens her eyes, looks at her desperately. ‘Serena?’

‘I’ve got you,’ she repeats.

And Bernie surrenders. Serena feels the moment she gives herself over, body softening against her until she begins to shudder, receives the relinquishing of control like a precious gift.

‘Serena,’ she whimpers.

Serena shifts oh so slightly, and the new angle is all it takes. Bernie arches against her, head thrown back, gasping as her hands clutch desperately at Serena’s back, fingers grasping and clenching and splaying uncontrollably. Serena grips Bernie’s hip firmly, fingers sticky against her skin, watches the exquisite anguish play silently across her face, eventually giving way to euphoria.

Bernie smiles lazily, opens her eyes and gazes at Serena. Their lips are drawn back together and they kiss, sloppy and open-mouthed because Bernie can’t marshal her muscles for anything more elegant. Serena draws Bernie to her, gathers her in her arms, feels her curl as close as she can get, face buried in Serena’s neck.

‘Glorious woman,’ she breathes, and it’s the last thing Serena hears before they tumble into sleep.

 


End file.
